Whirlwind
by FrostedFire
Summary: Eponine, stuck in the never-ending terrors of cancer and depression, whirls through life unaware. Unaware of how pretty she was, of how many lives she touched, and certainly unaware of the actual twists and turns of other's existence. All she knows is this: her life sucks, she'll be dead pretty soon, and she totally likes her friend's boyfriend. And others. (Heck, she likes boys.)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Les Miserables. _**

**So, this little idea came up to me, and promptly smacked me upside the head. Isn't that lovely?**

**Summary: _Modern AU. Eponine, stuck in the never-ending terrors of cancer and depression, whirls through life unaware. Unaware of how pretty she was, of how many lives she touched, and certainly unaware of the actual twists and turns of other's existence. All she knows is this: her life sucks, she'll be dead pretty soon, and she totally likes her friend's boyfriend. And others. (Heck, she likes boys.) Watch as she continues down this whirlwind, sweeping up everyone in her path._**

**CERTAIN PARTS MAY SEEM CLOSE TO 'THE FAULT IN OUR STARS'. MY SISTER POINTED THIS OUT; I HAVE NEVER READ IT. I STARTED, BUT NEVER FINISHED. Hence the beginning of the chapter. Yes, that's how the idea bloomed, but there is no way that the paths will be equal.**

**Sorry about the long AN.**

**~ Fai**

* * *

"Why would you tear perfectly crisp parchment?"

We sat in a circle, elbow to elbow, knee to knee. Every so often, our bodies would bubble off, and you'd find people attaching themselves to each other, sobbing silent tears. Even though I found _that _a bit dramatic, my eyes found my wrists, my thighs, and other regions that still held scars. There was shame in those movements. There was a hell of a lot of shame, and no matter how much I tried to tune out the overly-poetic words, I heard them. Each breath, every question that dripped past his stupid mouth, I had to listen to.

It's a silly little club, if you ask me. All the preaching wasn't going to make anyone feel any different. None of us wanted to be here: not on Earth, not at home, and especially not at this pathetic excuse of a therapy session. I mean, come on, our 'leader' was no more than a teenager. Maybe eighteen, if that old. That's it. Anyway, there was no doubt in my mind that this was the last thing that any of us wanted, or needed, to do.

Even that Enjolras boy; he would listen attentively and go off with his drunk-ass boyfriend, drinking until twelve in the morning, before sleeping it off and starting again. Even Courfeyrac, the gorgeous hunk with abs galore (who won't ever hear me say that, 'cause we don't get along well), he won't last. I could tell you for a fact that he was going to start back up with the pills, or whatever he did to do drugs. Or he'd start into his flirty routine with our group leader. You never knew with him.

God, I can't even name a soul who wanted to listen to the preaching, except for maybe Courfeyrac, and he just wanted to get it on with the hippy.

Like usual.

Jehan, or Jean , or whatever-you-may-call-him, kept droning on and on, hinting occasionally that we had to give up at some point. Sounds perfect to me, until I see that he's gesturing dramatically. Oh, right. Give up our emotions, give up guilt. Not life. Well, damn. That's a bit disappointing.

I could barely resist the urge to roll my eyes dramatically at his next words- 'Time to Share'. Something must have escaped me, 'cause the next thing I hear is, "Éponine, how about you go?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

"I can leave?"

I know what he meant, but sometimes, it's easier to act obnoxious.

"Nice try. How have you been doing? What's your downfall?"

Everyone seems to visibly shift towards me, and scoot my chair back, knowing just what they'll see: one underweight girl (not by choice) wearing hospital-issued clothes, (also not by choice), who had an attitude to boot (which was by choice).

In other words, a bona fide failure.

"Oh, um… Name's Éponine-" Here I glare at the group, daring them to call me anything different. "I've been surviving, not that I'm enjoying it. Not a lot of seizures this week, and no knives."

Someone coughs, and raises their hand. Poet-boy-man acknowledges him with a single nod, and all of a sudden, I'm the subject of too many questions. Now, I'm not the shy type, I just hate talking to people. Especially as they don't really give two shits about my thoughts, and just want their own facts.

"Seizures?"

"Do you cut?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Cancer. Yes. No." Terse, cool, confident. Maybe then they'll leave me alone. I wish. Sympathy, that's what I get next. Millions of timed apologies, a careful little ripple that the entire room echoes. My eyes narrow slightly, and it freezes, like someone tossed a freaking ice cube at them. Or a hostage situation. Nah, that wouldn't work. We'd all throw ourselves at them. Death was an old friend, while the cold is just… cold.

"Okay, Éponine. Grantaire? Enjolras? Which one of you wants to go?"

"Not me," the drunk muttered, and gestured to his little friend, who squirmed in discomfort. Poor Enjy… Not. Hey, I was already subjected to this torture- besides, I was 59% sure **he **was the one who asked if I was dating anyone.

"Enjolras?"

"Fine," he sighs out, and crosses his arms. "I'm Enjolras, Antoine Enjolras-"

"Who're you, James Bond?"

Everyone laughed, but he continued as if nobody busted through with their smart mouths. "-And I have only come because Grantaire required assistance. I feel that I clearly cannot be considered mentally deranged, as many of you are."

His fancy, yet obnoxious, words took me aback. I mean, they weren't all high-and-mighty like a king's, but still… It was enough to warrant confusion from the resident educational failure.

He continues, "However, I do believe that we are going about this the wrong way. How many weeks has this little function been going on? Three months? Two? And we're just now getting to telling our stories? Besides, **she **barely told hers."

Wow. Just… Wow.

I'm not telling my life story to all these fucking strangers, though. I won't stoop that low.

Apparently, I don't get that choice.

Lucky Grantaire doesn't have to go, and gives his little boy-toy a dewy-eye look, while I just sit and gape. Jehan, how scooting the length of our circle in his rolling-chair, barely spares them a glance. He's now red-faced, and staring at me.

I don't wait for the go-ahead. Hell, now I'm just gonna plough through, and everyone gets my snappy remarks and a sob story. Yay.

"Well, what the hell do you think you wanna know?"

Of course, they all turn to His Majesty, who grins triumphantly. In a snotty little tone, he explains that he wants to know my motives- and why I'm so skinny. Well, Jehan doesn't do anything about this, leaving me in a rotten position. I guess I gotta answer the question.

It's official, though. I hate this boy.

It takes a lot for me to hate people, too. I don't hate Jehan, but I do strongly dislike him. But that's because his obnoxious self can't do anything more than criticize my behaviour in front of people.

"My body is wasting away, if you have to know, you ass," I say, by way of introducing the lovely topic of My Life. "And I can't afford shit."

"You, Éponine, or your family?"

"This ain't a fucking interrogation," I hiss out. "Isn't, I mean. But it ain't. Isn't. God. I pay for it, okay? For living. I stay with Mister Fauchelevant, or what have you, every other weekend, just to live. Hospital isn't for me. Too cold. 'Sides, I ain't dead yet."

I get a few glares for that. Guess they couldn't understand me, or didn't hear my accent before. They got it now, anyhow. Maybe it was the nerve he struck. Yeah, that's it. The nerve.

This boy, strange as he is, isn't affected by my obnoxious nature. He simply slings an arm around his little boyfriend, which I guess he knows bothers me. In a simpering way, they gaze at each other, until Jehan interrupts.

"It seems like you are holding a bunch of anger back, Éponine. Are you sure that's the best path to take?"

Everyone gazes at me with a curious light, and by the time that I've finished coming myself down, I gotta talk again. Damn. What is it, Éponine day?

"What else'm I supposed to do? Dead, dying. That's all this is- all we are! I'll be gone by the end of the year, an' half o' you'll follow me!"

Here, I stand, arms crossed. I guess I'm revolting. Well, goes to show how much of my parents is in me. They'll likely cart me off to jail, or something. Truth is, I don't care. Not any more. Not at all.

"Courfeyrac'll end up O. , or might just get in a bad fight, on purpose. One o' you freaks'll drive drunk, with the other in the freaking car. Stupid over here, Joly or whoever you may be… ever mind that, they'll just end up shoving minerals up your hypochondriac ass. Your depressed friend-Bossy?- he'll just drop off. None of you know how to function, anyway. And all that does happen'll affect you, Jehan."

He blushed a deep red, but everyone applauded me. I must've coloured up or somethin', too, because everyone was giving me a strange look a few seconds later. After a moment, they cleared up, and I must've sat myself down again, but I'm not exactly sure.

Anyway, next thing I know, Jehan shoved us all into the other room, his hippy self a bit befuddled. I paid no mind to that, and just chewed contently on a few cookies, observing. There was a new kid there, this week, which probably wandered in during my final announcement and looked pretty embarrassed. I was, too, 'cause this boy was gorgeous. Really gorgeous. He kinda had this beach-boy appearance going for him, with freckles dotting his perfectly shaped face. The best part of him had to be that very same face, I guess. His eyes were a lovely shade of blue, and anyone else might have remarked that they were much too far apart, but they just glistened with the brightness of tomorrow. Oh, what I would have given for that boy to glance at me that way…

I guess I was staring a bit too long, 'cause he shifted in my direction, a smile pushed onto his lips. Wow. That's really all I can say about him. Him, smiling at me. I crack a grin, and just as this gorgeous boy shows up, so does she.

Her name is Cosette, and we know each other too well to be considered friends. She belongs to Fauchelevant, and with the blondest curls and bluest eyes, it's a wonder that this boy gazed at me for even a minute. I'm not upset. Nah, I'm thrilled. Me and Cosette get along well enough, almost too well, for any fight.

I'm almost euphoric as she speaks to him, pulling him closer to my spot by the punch bowl. By this point, I was sure we were gonna be introduced.

Oh, Cosette! How was I ever going to repay her? I don't think I ever will be able to… Anyway, I'll be dead before then.

"Éponine!" she exclaims, and her throaty voice carries, practically dragging out group guide and his puppy over.

I wrap my arms around her before another word could be said, giggling. She twists a hand through my brown curls, a familiar gesture that immediately draws me back. "Where's your papa?" I looked around, trying to find him among the now-approaching reluctant parents.

"He's shopping for a bit, so Marius and I are here!"

The gorgeous stranger nods, and smiles carefully, trying to find words. And all at once, my heart breaks. Of course. Of course.

The rest of her explanation got lost in translation, as I was still shell-shocked. Too add to that, the freaking poet was back, chattering about my behaviour. I had to resist the urge to vomit, for some reason, and excused myself.

I gained a puppy, apparently, as I scooted off.

I turn to face Courfeyrac, eyes burning. 'What the hell?"

"Sister's boyfriend has something you want?"

"Go take a pill. Or two."

"He obviously isn't worth it."

"Take a pull, druggie."

"That's **not **how I get high."

"I don't care. Get off my ass."

"Éponine," he sighed.

"What the hell do you want?"

"One date."

"What?!"

"One date. You heard me."

"Shit."

"That a yes?"

The pair of drunks twitched slightly next to me, twittering. I ignore them, my eyes slowly roving up the mischievous face. There was something about it that seemed nervous. His eyes? His lips?

"Whatever."


	2. Chapter 2

"Who was the boy?"

Her sing-songed voice wafted upwards, rustling me from my position in the back of the red bug Cosette drove. My face reddened slightly, and I gazed at the ground, shifting muck-filled combat boots. They were kinda wrecking her car, and I was halfway hoping it didn't bother her that much. I doubt it would. It was kinda sad, actually, that nothing I did bothere her. Me marking up her life, ruining things… She was just a bucket full of cute.

"What boy?" I ask, in what I hope sounds like an innocent tone. Even though I know nobody's fooled, the question wasn't rephrased, and I guess nobody was in t he mood to deal with me in a nasty mood. Hell, even I didn't want to deal with myself in a completely pissed off mood.

Maybe it was because that gorgeous boy of hers was in the ca, trying to make awkward small talk. It was sort of pathetic, I his own hyped-up prep way. Just like Cosette. They were made for each other.

It was shame. I really, _really _liked him. And, as a Thénardier, I did what I wanted, and got what I wanted.

Now that I thought of it, the whole idea sounded kind of selfish. Maybe if I just borrowed him? But that wasn't what I needed, or what she needed.

I just needed…

"How old are you, Éponine?"

My thoughts crack open with his words, and my lips are practically parted to allow half of my ridiculous back story come floating free, like anybody really cares about the caged bird who can't even sing. I mean, what else was I supposed to do to get him to fall in love with me? Say, "seventeen," and be done with it? That was stupid.

"Well, I'm gettin' really close to bein' –

He interrupts me again, to ask, "Do you have Mr. Fitzgerald?" in a sweet tone, his head craning around the pretty upholstery that the saint herself had helped make. "He was my favourite teacher in middle school."

Wait.

What?

I crinkled my nose at that, and all hope briefly fell.

Middle school. He thought I was in middle school. And Cosette let him! She didn't do anything about it, but kept driving. Poor Marius was stuck taring blankly at the road, not exactly sure what was goin on. I wasn't about to help him. Not quite yet.

We sat in silence for quite a bit, me watching as the clouds floating happily along a peaceful sky. It was the exact opposite of the tense surroundings, with our special snow storm coming to an overwhelming finish. We were getting very close to the house.

It's funny; I was usually anticipating this feeling of care, and now I was dreading it. Why I expected anything different to come from this visit, I didn't know. I guess it had something to do with the whole 'Courfeyrac thing' and the fact that Cosette and I were currently treading on thin ice with one another.

Maybe it was neither. Maybe there was a whole different thing that was making me dread going to the one place I kinda considered to be a home.

We all stomped out of the car (or glided, in the driver's case), and trudged towards the big white mansion, everyone with a grim expression on their lips. Actually, Cosette was trying to smile, and Marius was kinda frightened, but he didn't count. Right now, it was just me and my friend, attempting to feel the air around each other.

It was pretty thick air, if you ask me. Thick and uncomfortable.

Luckily, her father didn't notice, not as soon as we walked through the door. He seemed kinda happy to see me, like usual, and sat me at the kitchen table, shovelling a hell of a lot of food onto my plate. It was actually really frustrating, since I wasn't hungry, and I didn't even like pasta. But he was being nice, and he actually tried. Some people don't, like the foster home I usually spend time at.

"Éponine, how nice it is to see you! Are you excited for today?"

I don't really know what the hell I'm supposed to be excited for. And, you know, you can't really say that to parents. They'll just judge you, and glare at you, and usually smack you. But Mister Fauchelevant is kinda different than the adults that I know. He's cool, for one. And he may or may not be gay. Neither Cosette nor I were able to figure that one out.

We kinda just assume he is. He kinda has a thing for Javert, who is the guy in charge of me legally. He's pretty cool, too, I guess, but is more of a father than a friend. It isn't my favourite thing, but he'll usually bail me out of jail when I get in trouble for things. Not that I've been in jail yet, but it's a running joke in my screwed up family. He keeps asking to adopt me, 'cause he already has my siblings with him, and after I tell him that there's no fucking way in hell, he tells me that 'It's okay. Just remember I'm here to bail you out of jail.'

Yep, it's pretty funny.

"Today," I repeated, kinda frustrated when he just nods. "Erm. Cosette. Are you excited?"

But shit, I forgot that we weren't really talking with each other. Or barely talking to each other. With my plan kinda backfiring, the old man just looked at me, and laughed.

"Javert is coming over. He appealed to the court today, remember? He's fully adopting you for the remainder of your childhood days!"

Well, he sounded excited about that.

"And we're getting married, did 'Sette tell you that?"

Well, nooo… But I guess that answered my question on his sexuality.

With all this shit being a bit too much to document at once, I kinda just shoved some pasta in my mouth, and nodded, trying to look all happy. Cosette just glittered sweetly at her dad, grabbed her boyfriend, and declared that they were going to go watch some television. Apparently, she wasn't gonna say that she forgot to tell me.

"That's exciting! So we're makin' a party out of it?"

He nodded, and sat himself down next to me, still awash with the glory of getting engaged. I could see the ring now, a little band of gold. I was kinda happy to hear that he was going to be married, as someone needed to make sure he didn't go back and do something stupid with his life. He used to be in jail, a long time ago. He told me that after I tried to run away the first time, and the second time, he explained exactly why.

It's kinda funny, really. He just stole something, but kept trying to escape from jail. I can't remember what it is that he took, but it was something really stupid, because I just couldn't fathom how he managed to go to jail for a long time. And then, he accidentally adopted Cosette.

Hah. Cosette was an accident baby.

That'll be fun to rub in, if we continue to hate each other.

"Yes, we are," he murmured happily, and leaned a hand on his knuckles. "Even Fantine is coming over."

Fantine was this really pretty young woman, only thirteen or so years older than Cosette and I, and looked just like the blonde beauty. I kinda had a feeling that she might have been the accidental mother of the accidental baby, but if I as much as mention her, both of them clam up and stomp away. I have a pretty good feeling that it's just denial. They both have to know.

My brows shot up at his statement, though. We all knew Fantine hated Javert with a passion, and the mere thought of them being in the same room was pretty funny. Besides, they weren't exactly the politest of people to each other. Why would they be together, to ruin all the fun?

"Erm… May I ask why?" Hey, I was genuinely curious. It was a very nice thing, you know, to be curious. "Not tryin' to be rude or anythin'."

I got a smirk in response, and fingers twined together, then reached towards mine. "Well, she _did _gain adoption over a new child, and you know that Gavroche is over there. I thought it would be nice."

"Another kid? Damn. She's been busy."

He glared at my use of the word, and motioned for me to shove more pasta in his mouth, the overly polite man's kind ways unnerving me for a brief moment. What was he going on about, with a new adopted child? That's gonna piss of Cosette- not that I care. We aren't friends right now.

"A guy, about your age," he announced with a smirk. "Calls himself Courfeyrac."

Well.

Damn.

Today is **not **my day.


End file.
